A Grim Promise
by Kyrieath
Summary: One shot. A Blood Knight ponders Silvermoon and an employer he doesn't much care for. bland summary, I know.


Note: This is written from the perspective of my BE retri paladin, Eldran. The other character in this fic, Fallain, is played by a friend of mine. He's just been borrowed for this fic.

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I can recall a time when Silvermoon was a place that was proud and golden in more than just the statuary and architecture. It wasn't so long ago, though one would think ages had passed, with the changes that had come. Not just in the loss of the Sunwell or our city's heart to the Scourge...something within us was lost as well. Oh, I heard it every day from my fellows....

"The Light abandoned us..."

"Why shouldn't we use the Horde? The Alliance isn't worth anything now."

Traitors, betrayers - monikers given to us and ones we return steadily to the Alliance, even as we warily eye the Horde. And even then it still wasn't from them our next betrayal had arrived. No...it came from our own so-called Prince, the self-crowned King Kael'thas Sunstrider. All of our bitterness and paranoia to the outside, and it was from the very one so many had thought would save us that it came.

Oh everyone was oh so shocked, of course. To think the Prince who joined forces with a maddened, winged and horned Night Elf and who taught us to enslave the light, supposedly, should turn on us? Oh yes, so very shocking indeed. They don't want to admit that anyone with the least bit of sense should have seen this coming. Were we really that desperate as a people we cared nothing for our own integrity anymore?

Once upon a time, they persecuted anyone who'd dare say Kael'thas was not the great savior so many hailed him as. Were these people suddenly being welcomed back with open arms now that they had been proven right? I stifle a laugh at the thought as I watch the orb within Undercity glimmer and shine. Of course they weren't. The powers that be in Silvermoon would never admit to such a blunder; those cast out or 'strongly encouraged to leave' as some would so kindly put it were still unwelcome.

They'd not hunt you down in the streets- but you know you would be watched. The slightest wrong move and they would be breathing down your neck. Fitting, then..that the orb should be sitting here in the rotten carcass of Lordaeron. The city it led to may be as unalike this place in appearance as once can ask...but the truth of it matched perfectly. Undercity was filled with the dead who didn't belong here- Silvermoon was filled with elves no one wanted. And both were completely rotten to the core.

They could have it. I didn't need a city or a people who made running from reality to call my own.

A delicate cough sounds behind me, earning the dark haired elf who voiced it a glare every bit as foul as this city's stench. Fallain is waiting there, 'politely' waiting for me to finish my little pondering of the orb after fairly well ditching me in this disgusting place to go about his own matters. No, I didn't need Silvermoon...every time I thought I might, I just had to look to him to know why.

He was Silvermoon incarnate: refined as you pleased on the surface, from that oh so neatly bound black hair to every neatly arranged little bit of decoration and fold of his robe...and completely rotten underneath. I've lost track of how many people keep falling for his oh so charming manners and pleasant smile. Every bit as trustworthy as the powers that be in Silvermoon..happy to sing your praises as long as you did their every little bidding...ready to crucify you the moment you had your own ideas that didn't agree with theirs. He just did it with a delicate little smile and an assurance to everyone who might see that it was completely well earned.

"If you've quite had your fill of this place, Eldran; I do believe we have other places to go now, hm?" That ever so civil smile is firmly in place, eyes gleaming with more than just the fel light brought by the mana tapping of our people.... It had to amuse him, knowing full well I'd rather shatter the teeth of that damned smile with my sword or a well placed fist than be civil in return.

I was never gifted at lying; if I had realized that was all but destined to be a prerequisite of being one of the newly named sin'dorei, I would have remained among my quel'dorei kin. Not that cowering back, waiting for the inevitable to come suited me any better....

"Fine; you're done here then?" I don't bother to wait for an answer to his not-quite order- it's useless to try to argue. For better or worse, I'll never be free of this little chunk of Silvermoon. There were more than a few things assuring me of that. Yet so help me, one day I'd take that mage's head clean off his shoulders and claim some place as home just to mount it on the wall. It'd make a fine target for throwing knives, darts and whatever else at.

A sudden presence just slightly behind me and the faint tinge of arcane in the air tells me he has cheated again with that magic of his to catch up to me- walking now just out of my ability to see from the corner of my eye. He knows how much I hate it; along with everything else about him. All it ever does is amuse him though, as it's doing now.

"Indeed, my dear Eldran. My apologies if I disrupted your...enjoyment of our surroundings. If you're so keen to desolation, perhaps Desolace would better suit you?" That aggravating smile; I can hear it in his voice even if I can't see him. I'll kill him, one of these days. When I've given up all hope for Azeroth in general, I'll turn my blade on him.

No doubt I'd be following him out soon after; or perhaps die in the doing...but I'd at least get the satisfaction of seeing him covered in his own blood. I couldn't slay my former home, but I could kill this one incarnation of everything about it. That would be a worthwhile sight to die for, to carry to whatever freedom death has to offer after a life sorely lacking it....

Call it my promise to myself; the one that can make me smile even after all the betrayals, the loss and the pain. A cruel promise...a grim one. And yet mine all the same, unlikely to ever be broken.


End file.
